00 - Templar's Acre by Michael Jecks Read Free Book Online Page A

as chastity
and obedience, the same as any other monk.
    Ivo sidled round and glanced at the piles of coins. Roger Flor had a small heap in front of him, and now he eagerly placed more in the middle, while Baldwin happily equalled his wager. Two
sailors followed suit, and Baldwin picked up the dice and began to rattle them in his fist. When he flung them down, there was a stunned silence for a moment, and then Baldwin grinned and took the
pile and scraped it to meet his other coins.
    ‘This game looks like fun,’ Ivo declared loudly, hands on his hips.
    ‘Master Ivo,’ Baldwin said, looking up at him. ‘I’ve been really lucky. You wouldn’t believe it, but I’ve won almost every game!’
    ‘True, I find it very hard to believe,’ Ivo said, staring at Roger.
    ‘Something wrong, Ivo? Or do you want to join our party?’ the shipmaster asked.
    Ivo looked at Baldwin again. A strange feeling washed through him: a vague memory, perhaps, of the man he had been when he first arrived here by ship.
    Baldwin was beaming up at him, and Ivo was suddenly reminded of his son’s face. That same innocent glee, fixed in the moment, without any concern for the future – it was there in the
young man’s eyes. Ivo felt a shiver run down his spine as he recalled his thoughts moments before. Could this be a sign from the Blessed Virgin? On a whim, he made a decision. He would
protect this fellow while he was in Acre.
    ‘No. This has been a good game, but it’s time for my young friend to come with me. Pick up your winnings, Master Baldwin.’
    ‘Oh,’ Baldwin said, crestfallen. ‘I was just . . .’
    ‘He doesn’t want to go yet, Ivo,’ Roger said. ‘Leave him for three more games and we’ll look after him.’
    ‘No. He will come with me now,’ Ivo said, stepping in front of Baldwin, who toyed with a coin but made no effort to collect the others.
    ‘I would like to stay here a while longer,’ Baldwin said. The afternoon had been enjoyable since meeting Roger Flor again. Already the memory of the pursuit through the lanes had
dwindled – and gambling was a natural pastime for a knight or knight’s son. ‘Where do you mean to take me?’
    ‘Yes, Ivo. What do you want with him?’ Roger asked, climbing to his feet.
    Ivo looked down at Baldwin. He owed the boy nothing. Baldwin was a traveller who had come here, possibly in search of money like so many of the mercenaries who arrived each year from Lombardy or
Gascony. Yet there was something about him that cried out to Ivo’s heart. That faint resemblance to Peter.
    It was more than that alone. Looking at Baldwin, he could see a pale reflection of himself when he had landed here twenty years ago. The difference was, when he landed, Ivo had been with an
army. He had not been deposited here alone, prey to the dangers that the Holy Land contained.
    ‘Pick up your winnings, Baldwin,’ he said quietly, and then, to Roger, ‘You’ve had your fun. He’s leaving.’
    ‘Really?’ Roger said with a slanting grin. ‘Well, we mustn’t get in your way, must we? Maybe we’ll play again, Master. Soon, eh?’
    Baldwin nodded, tying his purse’s strings as he went. Ivo followed him, conscious with every step that Roger’s eyes were on his back. It felt as though the man was aiming along a
crossbow’s bolt, ready to release it with a soft depression of the trigger.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    ‘Where is this?’ Baldwin asked as they strode up to the north of the city. It still rankled that he had been dragged from his game.
    ‘This is the Hospital. We’re going to my home in the suburb of Montmusart,’ Ivo said briefly.
    Baldwin hefted the purse. ‘I must have made six shillings, at least.’
    ‘Think yourself lucky. They were going to take it all away from you.’
    ‘No, they were playing well – I just kept beating them.’
    ‘They were using loaded dice to give you plenty of rope to hang yourself. As soon as they were sure of you, they would start playing with a